Passing Notes
by maybesomedaysameen
Summary: Root is forced to share a locker with an anonymous student. HS AU


Root trudged towards her locker, already in a bad mood despite the fact it was only third period. The jocks had pranked her (again) and Mr. Lambert had blamed her (again). They'd dumped a bucket of ice water over her head after she answered a math question correctly. When she demanded Mr. Lambert do something, he just said 'Maybe if you were a little quieter, the boys wouldn't be so mean to you. No one likes a Know-It-All."

Bullshit, Root thought, pushing her soaking wet hair out of her face and trying to navigate her way through the crowded hall. Knowing how to solve quadratic equations wasn't the issue. She could do a lot more than that and she was only 15. The issue was her recent growth spurt and her thrift store wardrobe.

One day, Root was going to invent something so cool that she'd become unstoppable and no one would be able to hurt her. She was so ready to graduate and get out of here. Maybe she'd leave early, create a fake identity and just…start her life. There was nothing keeping her here.

Stopping in front of her locker, Root sighed. There was a folded note taped to the front of her locker. At the beginning of the year, she'd been assigned a locker. Unfortunately, she'd also been assigned a locker mate. The school wouldn't tell her who it was, and Root was still trying to figure it out. That's why she'd started leaving notes, asking questions, but her locker mate was making it hard.

She looked around, trying to spot someone paying too much attention. She saw Sameen Shaw walking into the bathroom, but other than that, nothing. Root wished Sameen Shaw was her locker mate. She wished Sameen even knew she was alive.

She plucked the note off the door and flipped it open.

'Science fiction? I prefer action movies, like Rambo. I, Robot is a little bit of both. Have you seen it? Your hint for this week: Black Hair. I thought you were smart, but you haven't found me yet. Maybe you lied last week.

P.S. Are you cute?'

Root rolled her eyes. Normally, Root looked forward to these anonymous notes, but today, it just annoyed her. Action movies? With every note, Root was more and more convinced that she was sharing her locker with a boy. She dislikes boys on a regular day, but today she could honestly strangle one with her shoelaces.

Root pulled open her locker, immediately groaning. The smell of sweaty gym clothes made her eyes water and she crushed the note in her fist. The past three months had been some of the smelliest in her life. Her locker mate must have gym first or second period, because the gym clothes always looked damp and smelled like someone ran a marathon in them.

Dropping to her knees, Root swung her backpack over her shoulders onto the floor. Digging out a scrap of paper, she pulled a pen from her ponytail and scribbled a note.

'Wash your fucking gym clothes. All my shit smells like sweaty boy and it's disgusting.'

Root stood up and stuck the note on the messy pile of clothing, careful not to touch them. The bell rang and she quickly dug through her wire collection and pulled out her textbook. Shutting her locker and spinning the wheel on the locker, Root sighed and headed to her next class, already dreading the next batch of jocks.

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Root opened her locker, feeling significantly better now that the school day had ended. The smell from her locker mate's clothing had abated some and Root regretted her angry note. She'd been in a bad mood and taken it out on the nearest boy. Her probably-a-jock locker mate didn't deserve that. Unless she was one of the boys who had teased her, in which case she would kill him.

Reaching for her note, she realized it was a different paper. Her locker mate had already seen the angry message. Root winced as she read the new note.

'What the fuck? I tried to be nice to you because my therapist told me to, but if you're going to be a bitch, I will be, too. Stop leaving your fucking wires everywhere. They're greasy and sharp and are you building a fucking bomb? This is my locker, too, and I don't want to be arrested because some psycho white boy hates women. If my clothes are so gross, wash them your fucking self!

P.S. I'm not a fucking boy.'

Sighing, Root tossed the note back into the locker. She felt even guiltier knowing her locker mate was a girl. Maybe she could do something to make it up to her? Staring at the dirty gym clothes, Root had an idea. She could wash the clothing for her locker mate. Maybe there was a reason the clothing was always dirty. Maybe her mystery girl had issues at home. Root knew all about that.

She pulled the clothing out of her locker and shut the door with her shoulder. Her mystery locker mate should appreciate this. Root would even fold them.

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The next day, Root was late. Her mother had an episode after breakfast and it had taken Root almost two hours to calm her down. She walked into the school as the bell rang, starting third period. Instead of rushing to class, Root just headed for her locker, clean gym clothes pressed to her chest.

She'd done her homework at the laundromat the night before, washing her own laundry and the smelly clothes. Now, she hurried past classrooms, ducking as she ducked under the window of Mr. Finch's computer science class. Root knew he'd be disappointed that she was absent, but she'd already told him about her family situation. Besides, it wasn't like he was teaching anything she didn't already know.

Root stopped in front of her locker and turned the wheel, pulling it open. All of her wires were gone and she rolled her eyes. They were all spare pieces, nothing too important, but it was still annoying that her locker mate would take them. A new note waited for her and she put the folded gym clothing inside the locker. The note was written in Sharpie in huge, slanted handwriting.

'Where are my clothes? Are you putting them in the bomb? I need them for class, asshole! If you don't bring them back, I will find you and rip your throat out.

P.S. You'll get your bomb back when I get my clothes back.'

Root laughed. That was not a fair trade. If she really was a crazy white boy, then giving the bomb back was a bad move. She pulled her backpack off her shoulder and rested it on the edge of her locker. She'd built a box after school yesterday to keep her wires in. If she wanted a nice smelling locker, then she should make an effort, too.

Sliding the box into the locker with a scrape, Root laughed to herself. Maybe she should leave an apology note, explaining herself. Her locker mate was a girl, a sweaty girl who needed therapy, she would probably understand bullies and bad days. She scribbled a note under the bold, black letters.

'I'm sorry I left such a mean note yesterday. A bunch of dumb jocks dumped water on me and I took it out on you. I washed your clothes and I brought a box for my wires. You can tell your therapist we reconciled.

P.S. I haven't seen I, Robot, but I am really cute.'

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There was no note at the end of the day, but when Root opened her locker the next morning, there was an air freshener stuck to the back. She reached in to open her box and saw her wires, coiled and neatly packed away. A new note sat on the freshly sweaty gym clothes.

'I'm sorry, too. I have "anger issues," but thanks for washing my clothes. I'll try and be better about it. Don't insult jocks! I'm a jock, but I would never dump water on someone. Ok, I would, but only if they deserved it.

P.S. Boy or Girl?'

Root smiled to herself. A girl jock with anger issues? Now that was interesting. Root shoved the note into her pocket and unzipped her bag, pulling out a notebook. She was more curious about her mystery angry jock with anger issues who liked action movies and rode a bmx bike and had a really tall step-brother.

They'd been talking through notes for almost three months, but they'd never met. Root was still feeling bad about blowing up and now she was really curious about this girl. Was it possible to have a crush on someone you've never met?

She left her note folded on her box of wires and headed to class.

'I'm a girl. A very tall, very cute, very smart girl. We should meet! You have to promise not to dump water on my head, though. If you do, I actually might build a bomb. I'd love a locker of my own.'

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Root ran to her locker after class, pushing her way through the crowded hallway, her bag bouncing against her back. Hopefully, her locker mate had been by during the day and had left a note. Maybe they could be friends and Root would actually have a friend. Maybe the jock girl was gay and Root could seduce her with math and Star Trek trivia.

Yanking the locker open, a bright flash blinded her and she stumbled backwards. She blinked to clear her vision, a polaroid camera coming into focus in front of her. Before she could take the picture hanging from the front, a tan arm reached past her and snatched it away. Root turned around and gasped.

Sameen Shaw stood in front of her, face blank as she casually waved the polaroid in the air. Swallowing, Root felt her face get hot. An angry jock with a really tall step-brother described Sameen perfectly and Root felt like an idiot for not putting the pieces together sooner. She'd wanted it to be Sameen, so she assumed it wouldn't be.

"Ok," Sameen said, shrugging, "I'll give you very cute."

Root laughed, surprised. "Thanks?"

Dragging her eyes down Root's body, Sameen smirked. "I can see why you described yourself as 'gangly.' It works for you, though."

This was so crazy, Root thought, rubbing her face. Sameen Shaw, the star of the girl's lacrosse team, was Root's locker mate? Once, in their freshman year, Sameen had beaten a boy up for because he took a hat off her head for a second. Root had taken her gym clothes overnight.

Sameen watched her for a moment before looking down at the polaroid. "I have photographic evidence that we share a locker now, so if your bomb is found in our locker, I'm not going to jail."

"It's not actually a bomb," Root replied, rolling her eyes. "They're just extra pieces, in case I need them."

"Need them for what?" Sameen scoffed. "Are you building a robot?"

Root just shrugged, trying to seem cool. "I might be."

Sameen squinted, obviously not buying Root's act. She slid the polaroid into her pocket, watching Root with careful eyes. Root wondered what she was thinking about. Sameen lifted an arm to scratch her head and her bicep flexed. Sucking in air through her nose, Root crossed her arms.

"So… Now we know each other."

Sameen nodded. "We do."

Root waited for her to say something else, but she didn't. "What now?"

"Now," Sameen replied, digging a hand into her pocket and pulling out a note, "you come to my game this Friday."

"Do I?" Root laughed.

"You do." Sameen took a step towards Root. "After the game, you come to my house and watch I, Robot."

She pushed the note into Root's hand, turned on her heels and walked away, not waiting for Root's response. It didn't really matter, because Root was speechless. She'd never been asked out before, never been flirted with before, never had her picture taken outside of school. Unfolding the note, Root grinned.

Sameen had written her phone number on the page. Under the number, there was a message. 'Text me, Mystery Bomber.' Looking up, Root saw Sameen walking with her step-brother.

She stepped forward. "Sameen!"

Sameen looked over her shoulder, turning to walk backwards. "Yeah?"

"My name is Root."

"That's cute," Sameen said, still walking away. "Cute Root."

Root blushed and watched Sameen turn around again and jog to catch up to John. He just looked between them, confused. It only took them a few steps to disappear into the crowd of exiting students.

Biting her lip, Root sighed, happy. She and Sameen were going to be friends. Root was going to a lacrosse game and then she was going to Sameen's house. Staring up at the polaroid camera, she grinned.

She was going to date Sameen Shaw if it was the last thing she did. Sameen already had her picture and they already had a date. Root closed her locker and started down the hall. The first thing she needed to do was get a copy of Rambo.


End file.
